Bleach Busters
by Mistlan
Summary: Basically, Ichigo gets stranded in New York City and has to work his way back. 1st Bleach Crossover I've published. And trust me story builds up chapter by chapter.
1. Busted

**Bleach Busters**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bleach or Ghostbusters. All copyrighted materials belong to their respective makers. I'm just writing this because it's fun.

**Summary: **Strapped for cash, Ichigo can't afford a plane ticket home but who's going to hire a washed up Soul Reaper who can't even afford to pay for a taxi?

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Stranded in New York<strong>

"I'm sorry Ichigo but you're fired," spoke the authoritative voice on the other end of the line.

"I'm what?" Ichigo squealed. He could not believe this! He simply could not believe his ears. The white haired captain Toshirou Hitsugaya was not a patient kid? Man? Well he was not a patient young man at least physically speaking. Ichigo was the only soul reaper in the vicinity (as usual) and he went to fight a hollow. Problem was not out of the ordinary . . .

"But I didn't do anything horrible Toshiro," Ichigo lamented. "Besides I'm a substitute soul reaper. I wasn't paid for kicking hollow butt."

"BUT YOU BLEW UP A HOSPITAL!" Toshiro shouted causing the orange haired teen to cover his ears. Ichigo was amazed how well the Chibi Captain's voice echoed through a payphone. "And that's Captain Hitsugaya to you! Soul Reapers were stationed in the world of the living to exorcise hollows not light a match to see where you're going and walk into a room of OXYGEN TANKS! You narrow minded bigot-"

"Okay, Toshiro, I get it," Ichigo calmly qualmed, "I screwed up, my bad at least no one I knew was injured."

"No one you knew?" Toshiro quipped to which Ichigo anticipated covering his ears, "NO ONE YOU KNEW! What if it'd been my GRANDMOTHER in there! Ever think about the consequences then, hmm? The Senkaimon from New York to Karakura town has been DESTROYED thanks to you and I don't need to repair it anytime soon. In fact you are on your OWN KUROSAKI and good day."

Toshiro slammed down hard on the line. Ichigo stared at the receiver in shock. He was more worried about the sociology report that was due on Wednesday for school! How was he supposed to turn stuff in when he stuck a continent away! This last thought was the least of his worries. The payphone rang, he answered it again.

"Hello? Oh HI . . . there about that ticket home," Ichigo spoke in his most manly pleading voice.

" Forget it Kurosaki," Toshiro drawled, "And I forgot to tell you that from now on Call me Captain Hitsugaiya. Anything less and I shall not speak to you."

"Why you!" Ichigo growled.

Toshiro continued speaking, "You can keep the pass and-"

WHAM!

Ichigo slammed the phone. The phone shattered from his strength. To anyone who couldn't see spirits it look liked the phone exploded. Yes he got his Shinigami powers back. Yes he was, _emphasis on was_, back on the clock. Problem was his powers took on a poltergeist turn of sorts since he had been out of practice for seventeen months. Even after his spectacular fight with Ginjo, it all went to hell in a hand basket from there.

"Oh crud I left my body back by the airport." Ichigo exclaimed in a panic.

He shunshined over and the overload of his Reiatsu sent out an enormous shockwave. Papers went _flying_ everywhere. Every fire hydrant in a thirty foot radius from here to the airport blew their tops to geyser of their own accord. By the time Ichigo arrived to the airport it was already too late. News crew had called a hearse for the "Boy Who Died Standing."

"And on other news tonight," voiced the TV reporter.

The "Stand-up Dead Boy" suddenly popped open his eyes and jumped out of the moving vehicle. Hearse drivers slammed on their breaks. News crew followed the skinny kid who stampeded up to the front desk saying . . .

"One airline ticket to Karakura Town please."

Ichigo could be seen twenty minutes later ducking the news crew by taking off the jacket of his school uniform.

"Well at least I couldn't get called out on my hair," Ichigo snickered to himself as he passed by one teen his age. He didn't know which was louder the Tie-Dye-Tee or the neon green Mohawk sported on the man's bald head. In fact just about every passerby was so colorful that his own grey school uniform just blended in. Everything from the office worker to the rock star walked there.

"Okay, blending in; no big deal," Ichigo scoffed, he opened his wallet only to find moths flying out, "Money . . . a problem."

Ichigo wanted to cry. He only had enough money for a burger and fries in yen and maybe a shirt. He couldn't afford a plane ticket and sleeping on the streets? Out of the question! Problem is he was broke and he got fired from a job that didn't even pay him anything. What else could go wrong?

"OH MY GOSH! It's the Stand-up Dead Boy!" A little girl joyously screamed.

"Ah crud!" Ichigo groaned.

And here he went again running like his life depended on it.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<br>**

This thought has been in my head and I've already got several chapters done. Just editing them so that they can be useful.


	2. The Power of Postage

**Bleach Busters**

**Summary: **Strapped for cash, Ichigo can't afford a plane ticket home but who's going to hire a washed up Soul Reaper who can't even afford to pay for a taxi?

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: The Power of Postage<strong>

Toshiro's last words to Ichigo were cut short by the slamming of a phone. Ichigo slammed the phone. The long dial tone at the end of that hell butterfly left Toshiro feeling drained. Guilt was usually a healthy motivator for sighing, planting one's face in one's hands and even making the four foot High Mountain of paperwork on his desk seem ominous instead of a challenge to be conquered. Normally the little workaholic could be that cold blooded on a work day. Then again it took every ounce of willpower in his system to not even sound remorseful for what he said to the tall orangette of Karkura Town.

"Oh yoo-hoo Hitsugaiya-Taichou," His busty strawberry blonde lieutenant crooned in hopes he wasn't around.

Problem is the fact that he was and the fact that he was upset proved even more a problem for the bubbly Leiutenent Slacker of squad 10 Rangiku Matsumoto. Her full lips formed into a curvy little pout accenting the beauty mark a little to the right of it. She eyed her captain with a childlike gleam in her blue eyes. Her huge bust nearly fell out of her robes as she jiggled the kid's shoulder here and poked him in the head there to see if she was alive. Passersby would've thought she was smothering him. In all reality it took an air raid to get him to awaken.

"Hitsugaya-Taichou," Rangiku whined. Toshiro moaned in response.

_'Can't my annoying lieutenant not pick such awful times to bother me?'_ Toshiro bemoaned to himself, _'I can't even get depressed in peace.'_

Rangiku huffed and stood in a straight forward manner crossing her arms.

"Well if you're too busy to cheer up Kiddo than I'll just drink some good . . . old . . . Saki without you," she happily declared causing Toshiro to fall flat out of his chair.

WHOMPF

"Matsumoto!" Toshiro demanded, jumping to his feet, "How many times do I . . ."

He paused in midrant to notice Rangiku smiling mischieviously with no alcohol in sight. Of course Rangiku knew Toshiro never drank. She just knew all the right buttons to press and where to hide the Saki. It still didn't cheer Toshiro up. Toshiro's face slowly fell back into its (deeper than usual) frown. His teal eyes never looked up to meet the eyes of his Lieutenant.

"Aw c'mon aren't you going to glare or yell at me or do something?" Rangiku asked, all humor left her eyes, seeing Toshiro this upset just begged her into the temptation of scooping him up like a child and cradling him like a baby, which would've resulted in a punch to the gut or a broken arm but it still didn't stop her from ruffling his snow hued hair, "I know that telling Ichigo that lie was the hardest thing you ever had _to do_ but it's not like we could just ask someone from the Gotei 13 to be stationed in New York City Captain and Ichigo's powers are already unstable enough as it is without him running through the Rukongai a second time and causing it to collapse."

"I know that." Toshiro countered.

"Not to mention the recent phenomena of undead from parallel universes." Rangiku mused and began counting things off her fingers, "Such as Gozer from that one parallel hell dimension."

"Oh ha ha! I ought to send Hell a gift basket for not keeping their demons housebroken . . . _again._" Toshiro joked, "That downtown skyscraper is the epitome of a Reiatsu Wifi thanks to some stupid human plotting the end of the world of the living. If crossing two pretty beams of light is going to make that place Hollow bait than maybe painting a big sign saying Psychiatric Help Wanted will attract The Captain of squad 12 and his tendency to experiment on anything alive or dead! Just look at what Captain Kurotsuchi keeps doing to his own lieutenant!"

"Now don't be so harsh," Rangiku chided, "That giant river of ectoplasm that's eroding away the border between this dimension and the Seireitei was not anyone's fault."

"Oh? And the fact that an evil Carpathian painting possessing a baby isn't bad enough?" Toshiro balked. "It was one wad of ultimate evil surrounded by Ghostbusting idiots wielding nuclear toys!"

"But I actually happened to like the giant dancing statue," Rangiku pouted, "But . . . anyway, Ichigo is left on his own with no one to help him-"

"He probably hates me by the way," Toshiro added.

"Oh phooey." Rangiku scoffed, "He was left on his own with no one to help him. Not to mention turning his life upside down."

"Matsumoto this lecture of yours is getting-" Toshiro lamented. He was one step away from doing more paperwork when Rangiku spun around and bumped the desk sending ink flying everywhere. Ink squirted out of the pen and splashed over Toshiro's scowling face. ". . . Tiresome . . ."

"I know! Let's mail Ichigo stuff!" Rangiku beamed. Toshiro gasped at the concept. Heck for over the hundreds of decades he'd been living he never so much as mailed a letter in his life.

"C'mon it'll be fun! We could mail him a soul pager after I play with it first of course those pink I-pagers are so kawaii," Rangiku squeed, lost in her train of girly thoughts, "Of course we can send letters but Hell butterflies are so boring! I think postage stamps are much more fun!"

"But we never told anyone else what happened," Toshiro qualmed, "And so help me you talk about one more blasted bright idea."

"-And we could blame this all on the Head Captain since he ordered you to do it anyway!" Matsumoto cheered.

To which Toshiro whipped his head around in a startling revelation. Why not blame the Head Captain? He ordered Toshiro to do it and Rangiku's idea of using the Postal service as a way of communication sounded like not a bad idea actually! He ran to his stack of papers to get himself comfortable at his desk. Of course, Rangiku sat in that chair first so it was lowered to the point his eyes were level with the tabletop. Grumbling, Toshiro adjusted the chair to its proper height and in a flurry finished a stack of much needed paperwork.

"Matsumoto?" Toshiro responded. Rangiku perked up upon hearing her surname. "This is my last will and testament . . . file it."

"Oh . . . kay?" Rangiku answered confusingly.

"I'd like you to mail these letters to all our friends." Toshiro exclaimed.

"Ahhh!" Rangiku squealed. She clasped the papers betwixt her fingers as if in prayer. If her eyes got any more sparkly you'd think Toshiro wouldn't say the one line that she'd never thought she'd hear.

"Let's go on vacation," Toshiro spoke. His fingers crossed behind his back that this would work. His life was on the line here! "I know of a wonderful . . . shopping . . . district with plenty of . . . sake . . . bars along the way. You can go . . . bar . . . hopping to your heart's content."

"Oh! Will there be gambling?" Rangiku gasped desperately. She bent over eye level with the captain who nearly had to duck away from Rangiku's bust line. Her kicked puppy face had the sparkliest eyes ever seen on the lady causing Toshiro to blush more in frustration than in embarrassment.

"I don't know." Toshiro vocalized in a pregnant pause.

"PLEASE tell me there'll be gambling!" Rangiku begged. Toshiro had to think fast. Rangiku's voice was getting loud when he wanted this to be sneaky and since the biggest blabbermouth in Soul Society happened to be his lieutenant. Only 4 words would get her dragged along with him.

"We're patrolling Las Vegas." Toshiro deadpanned but the last thing he remembered before passing out was Rangiku strangling him to her ample chest in a death hug that many men would've killed the chibi-captain for. Poor Toushiro, being smothered by size D-cup poofy pillows.

Meanwhile, the Kurosaki family and many other people in the local address book got a happy letter in the mail. It read like this . . .

* * *

><p><em>To whom it may concern,<em>

_I fired Ichigo for blowing up a hospital. Don't worry about him. He's all alone in New York City where actually where he'll be stationed with no back up whatsoever. Head Captain made me do it. I was following orders and I accept all responsibility. However, I won't be here by the time you get this letter._

_Sincerely,_

_Toshiro Hitsugaya, Squad 10 Captain_

_P.S. Please kill the messenger. I sent this in the mail so that you may have a punching bag to take your unholy wrath out upon._

* * *

><p>Needless to say, Toshiro spent a week away on leave. Rangiku got her dream vacation come true. Many letter receivers that were very prone to violence (andor extremely upset) mauled the mail truck. Others waited to give Toshiro a piece of their mind. Where were Toshiro's thoughts on all this?

Toshiro Hitsugaya looked out upon the neon signs. He didn't participate in the festivities or even in the alcohol drinking. He could be seen on the highest perches available lounging back with his mind in turmoil. How was he going to apologize to Ichigo? How was he going to apologize to everyone for the deeds he'd done?

Meanwhile in New York City, Ichigo was having troubles of his own. He spent the last of his money on a snack and a change of clothes. He still didn't have money for that plane ticket. A downpour of rain was not helping his spirits.

"Darn it," he hissed and ran into the nearest building he could find.

. . .

When the Ghostbusters were away on assignment, the only ones left was an ugly spud of ectoplasmic goo by the name of Slimer and the bespectacled secretary Janine Melnitz. Honestly the little red head loved her unusual job of secretary/gopher/call-person at the refurbished firehouse. Only problem is when it gets busy it's too busy and Slimer was not all that up to par yet with answering phones. The farthest he got to was "Yeah-hah, Yeah-hah, and SQUEEEE!" from imitating Louis Tully making a phone call to the national Star Wars Hotline. Having a pet ghost at work wasn't all bad. For one thing Slimer was an excellent Racquetball player.

SPI-TONK

SPI-TONK

SPI-TONK

PLUNK

Janine raced after the ball before it bounced twice. The ball ricocheted off. She swerved, ducked, dodged and skinned her knees while running after the ball. Slimer, well, little effort when it came to float and serve but bounced off the ceiling straight to the door.

Ichigo who had ducked in out of the rain, barely wrung out his combat pass only to see a sliming ENTITY HURL ITS WAY TOWARD HIM SCREECHING! Ichigo bopped that pass against his chest. He slipped out of his body brandishing his mighty sword. Slimer dropped his racket.

He squealed, "Help-me-Janiiiiiine!"

Ichigo took one step and the walls cracked. A giant glowing crater lit up the floor. Slimer, being not so bright almost got his face cut on the sword. Janine, in desperation, grabbed the nearest contraption she could find.

"Hey you ugly!" Janine yelled, Slimer looked ready to cry thinking he'd been called ugly, "Not you Slimer but YOU the floaty . . . samurai guy!"

"Hah?" Ichigo asked. He pointed a finger to himself in question, "You can see me?"

"Catch!" Janine commanded.

Ichigo caught the funny box. He looked directly _into_ the funny box. Janine stomped on the button activating the ghost trap Ichigo was holding. The funny box sucked Ichigo in face first.

"OYYY!" Ichigo yelled piteously in the box. His reiatsu caused the funny box to short circuit and smoke. It rattled with his piteous struggles to break free. "OY! WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA! I'M ONE OF THE GOOD GUYS HERE!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I heard someone write they wanted more so . . . here is Chapter 2 showing a great example of postage power abuse.


	3. And Along Came Ghostbusters

**Bleach Busters**

**Summary: **Strapped for cash, Ichigo can't afford a plane ticket home but who's going to hire a washed up Soul Reaper who can't even afford to pay for a taxi?

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>All material copyright to their rightful owners. [Zangetsu in swordmode, dialogue as follows]

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: And Along Came Ghostbusters<strong>

When the Ghostbusters came back from a banshee assignment off the East Coast they came in facing the most awful sight of their lives. At least that's what they thought when Janine came rushing out the door. She was babbling nonsense about Samurai Guys in black bathrobes wielding giant meat cleaver blades. She even gave each Ghostbuster a hug that nearly knocked Ray's donut out of his hand, had Egan Spengler contemplating cross examining her brain and leaving Winston trying to pry off a happy maniacally tittering redhead off of him. Slimer actually kissed Venkman full on the lips mind you and for the man with a parapsychology degree that left two no, three things that came to mind.

"UCK! Slimer that tastes nasty!" Venkman gagged as he spit ectoplasm out of his mouth, he turned to give Slimer his best little glare, "Okay you, either something really bad happened or you ate my hoagie again, _Slimer._"

"Nah-ah nah-ah It tweren't meeee!" Slimer squeaked than in afterthought added, "Oh-kay it was me but I was _bored!"_

"You're always bored," Peter Venkman answered.

"Nah-ah I'm not always bored," Slimer chimed in, "I'm always hungry."

"Boys! Boys!" Janine protested, "Are you going to let me show you the Samurai Boy in the box or not!"

Peter Venkman, with a sigh in silent exasperation, let the argument slide. Sure he got a degree in Parapsycology which the psychology part really helped him in picking up chicks and driving potential boyfriends away. Sure this low key conman slacker was usually the spokesman/case taker. Sure the ladies found him endearingly odd in that suave suspicious kind of way. He even combed his brown thinning hair just right to look the part highlighting the fact he still had a cute face and a bad rep for teeing universities off.

Egon Spengler, the heavily bespectacled brains of the Ghostbusters and not the most social guy in parties. He'd much rather poke at the boy's limp and lifeless form than sputter at the fact that whatever soul inhabited it was now inside the ghost trap. He pushed up his glasses, shook the curlicue comb-over out of his eyes as he politely asked little questions here or there about the boy in question.

"So this Samurai Ghost in question," Spengler asked, "Did he or did he not slime the floor when he jumped out of the corpse in question?"

"Oh enough about the sliming," Janine prattled, "Did you see the size of that awful blade he was carrying?"

"Oh yeah maybe he was compensating for something!" Ray Stantz piped up eagerly.

"SHUT UP!" The boy-in-the-box shouted, "I don't need anything to compensate for my manhood! And . . . WILL YOU QUIT LOOKING DOWN THERE!"

Egon for the sake of science had almost peeked down the pants of the body that belonged to the boy. He put the waistband back down and went back to taking notes. It was no different than studying a dissected frog on a laboratory table. Not that the boy in the box was happy. This particular ghost kept screaming and shrieking with such force. His spiritual energy was actually getting his cramped smoking prison sporadically crawling across the secretary's desk with his very obscenities.

"Man, no one needs to hear such a potty mouth," Winston Zeddemore mumbled, the black man came sliding down the fire pole since it was faster than the stairs to secure a roll duct tape on the opening effectively drowning the ghost's caterwaul's into mumbled death threats that nobody understood anyway, "I don't speak Japanese but I know a swearing mouth when I hear one."

"Awww you didn't have to tape the guy's mouth shut so to speak," Ray qualmed, "He's not Gozer."

"He's also not anything like Slimer," Winston explained.

Ray had a thoughtful expression flit across his chubby cheeked face. In build he wasn't fat nor was he skinny but he definitely liked his donuts. Ray was happy with grabbing the ghost trap before it fell off the desk. He put it on the other end and what do you know? The Ghost trap was yelling its way across the desk in a sporadic tipsy turvy flip worthy of a jumping bean hyped up on coffee. He pulled the ghost trap back.

"WHEN I GET MY MH-MMM-HMMM OUT OF HERE MMMH-MMM I'LL RIP YOUR MMHMHM OFF AND MHMAMM STICK IT IN A MAHAMMMHMMM." Ichigo started yelling.

CHINK

Slimer stuck the ghost trap in a gallon-sized pickle jar. Everyone oohed and awed at the jumping bean ghost trap that did flips in its Oscarmeyer gilded cage. Egon took notes. Winston went to prep the containment unit. Peter just frowned at the thing.

"You know it would've been a lot better if it were Barbara Streisand trapped in a pickle jar instead of some prepubescent carrot top," said a disgruntled Peter, "Let alone a super powered prepubescent Carrot top."

"Say that to my face you Lazy Bum," The boy spat back, "At least I don't have to sweet talk my way into a date unlike you, you perverted old man."

CHINKA-CHINKA-CHINKA-CHINKA-RING-A-DING-A-LING-A-LING

Ray decided he found something he hated worse than getting slimed. He decided to shake the boy's jar up so hard that the boy got motion sickness. Grant it the move was juvenile. Then again the boy inside was too busy covering his mouth. He was afraid to toss his cookies.

**(Meanwhile inside the Ghost Trap)**

Ichigo learned many lessons during his short stay in New York City. He learned never to look in boxes that looked like high tech pieces of junk. That it sure is cramped in a ghost trap and surprisingly even being 5'11" tall didn't stop him from fitting into an itty bitty 12" by 2" space. That no matter how loud somebody yells the only way to ever get somebody's attention is to say something personal. Lastly, Hot dogs only taste alright coming down not coming up.

"I'm gonna hurl!" Ichigo whined. All that jostling around and he couldn't tell which way was right side up anymore. Heck he couldn't tell if his stomach was sloshing up and down or left and right. He knew he was getting shook up pretty hard though.

"_Venkman_," Some glasses dude just commanded and the shaking abruptly stopped, "Quit these childish frivolities and help me hook this body up to this machine."

"But he started it Egon," The jar shaker whined, apparently the aggressor was pointing to the pickle jar.

"Venkman . . ." Ichigo stated apprehensively trying to remember Orihime's tip on remembering names, "Well you can't spell Venkman without the _vee_ in Pervert! AH-AH-AH-WAH-URGH! _Not agaaaaaain. _Urp_._"

CHINKA-CHINKA-CHINKA-CHINKA-RING-A-DING-A-LING-A-LING

Venkman Pervert went back to heavily shaking the jar again. Ichigo shoved two fingers up his puffy cheeked face to avoid making a mess down his front. He prayed whoever got Venkman Pervert to stop the first time would yell at him a second time. He really did not like motion sickness not one bit.

"Peter!" yelled a different voice that must've been the guy with the duct tape. "Hand me the Jar!"

"But _Winston_!" Pervert Venkman whined, "He started it!"

"Ah no way!" Ichigo maniacally laughed, "Pervert's first name is Peter? HAH you definitely can't spell Peter Venkman without the "P" and "V" in PERVERT! . . _Not again_."

CHINKA-CHINKA-CHINKA-CHINKA-RING-A-DING-A-LING-A-LING

Pervert Venkman shook that jar with such force his entire body was jiggling. Ichigo was back to clutching his stomach and his mouth as nausea squeezed his snack up like a tube of tooth paste. His stomach suddenly sloshed to the right. His nausea died down to an empty roar.

"Should we release him?" One voice asked, had to have been the Desk Toy Boy.

"Well you did make him sick Peter," said the Duct tape Guy to Pervert

"I did not," Pervert whined, "He started it."

"Not to mention I don't know what effects puke would have to the inside of the Ghost Trap," Brainiac Egan warned Pervert Venkman, "But it's interesting this ghost is capable of high level intelligence."

"You mean comparing me to a Pervert is a sign of intelligence?" Pervert growled.

"Well you tell me?" Ichigo stated before holding back the nausea, "Urp, uck, I didn't just compare you to a pervert. I _called _you a pervert. Pervert Venkman."

"Well if you'll call me pervert than I'm not letting you out Fruity-pie." Pervert stated matter of factly with a huff.

"My name is Ichigo Kurosaki you Pervert or does dorky name calling come with the territory Lazy Bum," Ichigo retorted acidly.

"Might I suggest a more . . . mature . . . solution other than futile name calling gentlemen." Brainiac Egon suggested. "Oh and get a sick bag for our captor."

**(Now back to our regularly scheduled 3****rd**** person point of view)**

Spengler's suggested idea involved moving Ichigo from the Ghost Trap to an "Ecto-Containment Chamber" which was nothing but a glorified high tech aquarium with two glass walls. Two ventilation strips on the back and floor with a bunch of monitoring doohickies on the side. Ichigo did a few excercises to stretch his legs as far as the glass cage would let him. He turned and BAM Slimer had his ectoplasmic-self squishing through the vents!

"Guh-huh-huh," Ichigo let out a small squeal, "WHAT ARE DOING! You almost got hurt by my Zanpaktou! Don't do stupid stuff to hurt yourself again!"

"_Buddyyyyy!" _Slimer squealed with Delight because anybody that nagging can't be a bad guy right? Much to Ichigo's horror Slimer floated lazily forward to give him a big gloppy hug and kiss. All the ectoplasmic spud knew was that was how Peter Venkman showed lady peoples affection.

"Whoa, whoa, hey don't suddenly you know get cuddly or something I d-don't-don't swing that way," Ichigo gulped.

Slimer stopped and stared. He reminded Ichigo of when his little sisters were little kids or when Baby Nel would give him that blank drop jawed face when he tried to tell her that Bikini magazines were not for eating. Except Slimer's mouth was opened wide to reveal a hole that seemed endless at the back of that throat. So the goo ball had the mental capacity of a child, big deal.

"How about we bump fists huh little buddy whaddaya say?" Ichigo bargained hoping not to slimed.

"Bump . . . fists?" Slimer asked with a cock of his head and he sucked in his gigantic upper lip.

"Yeah uh do this," Ichigo exclaimed by making a fist with his hand, Slimer imitated him, and Ichigo lightly brushed the ghost's knuckles with his knuckles. "See bump. Fists. It's a man hug without the hug-"

SQUOOSH

Slimer hugged Ichigo anyway and phased right through the soul reaper but not before leaving huge sloppy slime mess that plastered Ichigo's orange hair to his head. Ichigo grimaced with another newfound knowledge. That yes,Soul Reaper's _can_ feel Ectoplasm going down their pants which was disgusting.

"Lovely," Ichigo pulled a face. Yes he was repulsed but it was hard to hate the Ghostbusters' pet Slime Ball.

He laid back as best he could even having to bend his legs a little in order to sit on the floor. He closed his eyes quietly and in the back of his mind he could hear "them" quite well. His inner Hollow's insane blood lusts to kill everything in arm's reach. Tensa Zangetsu's sturdy presence as that man clothed in black, Old Man Zangetsu at the moment. Zangetsu materialized in the room just when everyone left. His form manifesting as Slimer phased through the opposite wall.

"Well this is a fine pickle jar you've gotten yourself into." Zangetsu pointed out more as a crack to tease his situation instead of actually help, "I'd have loved for you to get yourself seasick again Ichigo but seeing as how your inner world went from sunny, to raining, to hailing, to snowing, than back to sunny. I suggest you don't run your mouth."

"Hey! Pervert Venkmen asked for it!" Ichigo growled, "Besides I don't see how it could affect anyone else!"

"Your Hollow caught a cold." Zangetsu exclaimed and right on cue Ichigo's inner Hollow let loose a back-wrenching sneeze that escaped out of Ichigo's conscious mouth. This sneezing was going to happen for quite a while as Ichigo estimated. Unless he grabbed some chicken soup or something.

"AH-CHOO *sniff* so he did," Ichigo scoffed, wiping his nose with the clean part of his hand, "Wait Hollows can catch a cold?"

Zangetsu looked at his confidant slash wielder as if he was born yesterday. Of course a Hollow could catch a cold. When Ichigo achieved Bankai, the hollow could handle Bankai better than he could When Ichigo wielded Zangetsu against the hollow, the hollow did better than him. When Ichigo got a new ability, just like a new toy, His Hollow did better than him.

"Guess he even catches colds better than I do," Ichigo observed with a sniff, "Stinks to be him. ACHHHH-ACHI-GEE . . . BLECH-YOU!"

"Why thank you." Zangetsu joked.

"Shut up!" Ichigo griped. Far be it from him that whatever happened to the hollow happened to him, "And Zangetsu . . . Can I have some help getting out of this **AH-CHENCH** stupid cage?"

Ichigo wiped his running nose. He snuffled really hard. Zangetsu rolled his eyes.

"You don't need my help on something so trivial," Zangetsu stated, "That box is designed to seal in any and all spiritual entities. If you're not strong enough to break out of a pickle jar than how can you be strong enough to wield me?"

"Touché-AH-CHOO," Ichigo stated with a roll of his eyes, "Wait how about this idea. If you help me out of here I'll take you out to central park."

"A walk?" Zangetsu incredulously asked, "You'd bribe a sword by rewarding him like a dog?"

"Well not because my Zanpaktou is the only Zanpaktou to be so excited to see Santa-san on the Thanksgiving Day parade." Ichigo mocked his voice sounded funny with a runny nose.

"Take that back Ichigo," Zangetsu firmly commanded much like a parent commanding a child.

"Oh? How many Zanpaktous look up Santa-san on youtube?" Ichigo grinned, "But then again if it's easier for you to look up Santa-san than to offer any help huh lazy ah-"

"And far be it from me to offer help because you goad me into it." Zangetsu scoffed, "I'm not Uryuu. You aren't helpless so man up and handle things yourself."

Ichigo glowered. The effect was ruined.

"BLECH-YOU!" He wheezed.

"Why thank you," Zangetsu mocked.

". . . Shut up . . ."

Ichigo muttered something about Ungrateful Swords and their lazy ways. He pawed at the glass corner. Sure it looked loose. Maybe if he pried it loose a bit. Maybe add a Kido on top to gently, _gently_, blow the top off.

"I was speaking the truth about taking you to Central Park." Ichigo piped up, to which Zangetsu's eyes glanced Ichigo's direction, the butcher blade was all ears, "There's alots of statues. . . bunch of stuff . . . not to mention the big walking areas full of trees, flowers, and AHHHH-CHI-GEEE *sniff* ah . . . park exhibits."

Zangetsu in one flash went from point A to point B. He bent over very far with his hands in his pockets. Zangetsu eyed Ichigo warily. His nose three centimeters from the glass where Ichigo could cross his eyes to stare down it if so desired. Ichigo however scowled.

"I'm telling the truth," Ichigo declared, "Help me jiggle this corner open and I'll take you for a walk to Central park."

"I want to see the flowers," Zangetsu barked, since the view of mother nature would be a wonderful break from seeing nothing but skyscrapers and glass rooftops.

"Hai, Hai," Ichigo agreed nonchalantly and made a give-me gesture with his fingers, "Please?"

Ichigo used Zangetsu's shikai form to whittle out the glue on the glass cage. The giant blade proved too big to maneuver in the tiny glass box. It proved too big a glue scraper. Ichigo pressed on. He set Zangetsu down lightly on the wall. His mind replaying the one trick Renji did not show him.

'_Focus your mind, clear your thoughts, focus your reiatsu into a tiny . . . AH SCREW THIS! I know diddly squat about KIDO!'_ Ichigo thought to himself. He swung his sword.

CRASH

ZAP

Ichigo's brown eyes nearly popped out of their skull. The glass cage was blown to smithereens. The back wall of the building blown wide open. The next building after that had been slashed in two. A pile of Ash where the cage once stood beneath his feet. His gaze slowly floated up to the ceiling where one man, namely Ray Spengler, dropped his donut.

"Sumimasen eh Spengler-san? I mean," Ichigo rebutted, "I can explain!"

"No . . . way . . ." Ray gasped. He ran away shouting, "Egon, EGON!"

[I would suggest running,] Zangetsu whispered the blade's resonating between teenage Shinigami's ears, [Why aren't you?]


	4. Reaper Junior

**Bleach Busters**

**Summary: **Strapped for cash, Ichigo can't afford a plane ticket home but who's going to hire a washed up Soul Reaper who can't even afford to pay for a taxi?

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Usual disclaimer of I own nada, zilch, zip and zero of eithier Ghostbusters or Bleach. Toshiro shows us how not to be a tourist. Rangiku babies the Captain and Ichigo shows all the charm of a weaponized block of wood. I had fun portraying the devious peter venkman.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Rangiku to the RescueReaper Jr.**

Rangiku Matsumoto was having a BLAST! The shopping, the restaurants, the shopping,

The sake, the SHOPPING and did we not just repeat the word shopping? Rangiku had a one track mind that went a zillion directions at once. She sped down the shopping center like a sports car streaming shopping bags! Captain Hitsugaya didn't join in the fun, he was sullen even dropping an ice cream cone on the street and letting it sit there he looked sour and miserable.

"Taichou," she cooed, "What's wrong!"

Toshiro pursed his lips and headed for higher ground. Ice cream cone crushed beneath his boot heel. Rangiku left her Gigai to a soul candy that she warned surely to not perform hanky panky while she was gone and chased after the chibi-captain. Toshiro could climb trees, buildings, and just about anything with the prowess of an athlete twice his size. The added solid weight a gigai provided did nothing to slow the boy down.

"Taichou, Taichou," Rangiku finally called out, "There you are!"

Toshirou went to go sulk on the top floor of the nearest glass skyscraper while nursing a can of tea. The neon view of the city streets below did nothing to console him. Everything was too busy, too bright and Las Vegas happened to look surprisingly ordinary by day for being the Gambling capitol of America with everything from the fabulous to the bizarre. The only reason he came here was to run away to escape everyone's wrath, including Ichigo Kurosaki's.

"You had me worried," Rangiku chided, "I know you're more than capable of taking care of yourself Taichou but it's dangerous to run away like that especially in a strange city."

Toshiro swallowed his pride. The reason why he took Rangiku with him was because she was the biggest _gossip_ in Soul Society. He didn't want her blabbing about what happened to Ichigo. He didn't want her gabbing about his part in this embarrassing mess even more. Heck he even let Matsumoto hold the map so to speak even though he knew his credit card would die of exhaustion because of it.

"You're not feeling guilty for firing Ichigo again are you?" Rangiku whined to which Toshiro shuddered quickly; bullseye, "Taichou you're letting your guilty streak get the better of you again."

Toshiro Hitsugaya glared over his drink at the well-endowed bubbly lieutenant. If looks could kill Rangiku would've died a brutal death already. If Rangiku was as fearful of the Chibi-captain as anyone else was she'd have been a pile of mush already. Yet guess what, SHE DIDN'T CARE! She found the captains many moodswings just as endearing as his seriousness. She wanted to squeeze him; pinch his cheeks even. She opted to sit right across from him and give him one of her womanly grins.

_'It is sooooo FUN to take advantage of Hitsugaiya's childlike looks sometimes.'_ Matsumoto thought to herself, _'Who doesn't find him __**adorable**__?'_

"Oh c'mon admit it; this is worse than when you got carded at Chuck E. Cheese's." Rangiku teased.

"HOW COULD THEY NOT BELIEVE I'M OVER EIGHTY?" Toshirou roared, "Even the bartenders looked at me funny when I ordered a Shirley Temple!"

"WAHAHAHAHAHA!" Rangiku laughed, "Well maybe that's because Chuck E. Cheese's isn't an actual bar Taichou. It's a place for pizza eating kids to play."

"So says the overgrown child on the DDR machine," Toshiro growled, remembering quite well how Rangiku's cleavage jiggled with each step causing the table servers to spill cola in some unsuspecting parent's lap. The kids were all cheering Rangiku's new high score. They didn't pay attention to the commotion but loved the free prize tickets.

"Okay then what about when you spent the night at a friend's house, specifically Karin-chan's once upon a time?" Rangiku piped up just when Toshiro went to sip his tea.

PSSSHHHHHT

Toshiro spat his tea out in comedic fashion much to Rangiku's amusement.

He fussed, "Don't tell anyone that Matsumoto! I still haven't gotten Yumichika to stop singing the K-I-S-S-I-N-G song every time I walk by!"

"Taichou he's with squad 11, Squad 11 is known for its brawlers not its nerds." Rangiku bluntly answered as if harsh commenting for her was so easy, "Every time I see you get done with Yumichika he's a Popsicle."

"Hyourinmaru comes in handy," Toshiro spoke with a shrug.

"Or the time you joined the soccer team for the elementary school?" Rangiku chirped.

"Karin hurt her knee!" Toshiro yelled in defense, "She'd push herself to the point of a ligament rupture! She is such a Kurosaki Jr."

"Ahhahaha not unlike another Kurosaki we know?" Rangiku laughed, "Sure Ichigo gets angry but he's hardly one to hold a grudge."

"Of course he doesn't hold a grudge," Toshiro scoffed, "He causes them even for being an infuriatingly good friend."

The last thought hit Toshiro like a ton of bricks. Way to not notice the obvious. Of course Ichigo was a friend. So maybe he never calls him by the title he's supposed to be called. It took him six months to remember to call him "Toshiro" instead of "Little One." Ichigo still had everyone's back. He helped people out when they needed it the most. The orangette even helped Toshiro when he needed it the most to the point of shouldering the whole burden himself if need be. Tables turn but the roles stay the same for the ones who hold the script.

"Matsumoto," Toshiro commanded, he stood tall and headed for the stairs. Ready and will-co. "Time for us to go."

"Awwww, you're not going back to do paperwork are you?" she whined, "I haven't been to the bar yet."

Toshiro decided not to comment about the fact she'd been to several bars. Every bar she came out of had a drained supply of Liquor.

"Actually I hear there is a pretty good hot dog stand in New York City," Toshiro beckoned. Rangiku didn't have to hear that twice. She was glad her captain was finally cheering up. Oh the next big thing; where there's New York, New York. There's a place with a shopping mall next to the local bar. To Rangiku in her opinion, what better to go with shopping than Saki.

**(Meanwhile Back at New York)**

During the time of Toshiro's absence. Ichigo Kurosaki made four new enemies turned friends in just a few days . . .

Blowing the backside of the Ghostbusters building did not raise morale nor did it earn brownie points among the Ghostbusters. Peter Venkman especially took the liberty of frying Ichigo's ghostly rear end with the proton pack. A nuclear power plant's worth of anti-ghost rays. Ichigo, they discovered, was more gritty than their other ghostly catches. Ichigo fought back with such moxie.

Egon tried fired up another ghost trap. Ichigo sidedstepped and WHAM! Egon flew. The proton packs clutched tight in Ichigo's free hand. He nonchallantly swung his sword. The blade cleaved deeply into the main fuse box. Lights dimmed in minutes.

The containment unit had a backup generator. The rest of the lab . . . Not so much. Ichigo dissappeared as quickly as he could. What he didn't count on was the Ghost Busters were not Don Kanonchi. They were experts and even Pervert Venkman had a brain somewhere.

"Okay guys, here's the game plan," Peter exclaimed, "We have a nasty Japanese samurai wreaking havoc on our home sweet home."

"This isn't home sweet home," Ray piped up, "I mortgaged my house to buy this place."

"Yeah . . . that's wonderful Ray but can we just focus on the task at hand," Peter answered, "Egon, what do you know about him and how do we stop him?"

"Samurai Boy took shelter in our building to escape the rain, but he is clearly not American and clearly hasn't left. Some residual hauntings oftentimes involve a spirit or some other some such wandering entity that resides in a building to be harmless unless provoked." Egon lectured, Ichigo felt a sudden chill in the air and sneezed. The only source of heat was a flood light the Ghostbuster's crew was using to see. It's not the first time he'd "bummed" a resource off someone. He curled up next to the heat, his emotions going haywire.

It's still _raining_ in here, Zangetsu remarked, Get your happy butt in gear Ichigo and take me to the park.

'_What are you my dog?' _Ichigo muttered.

_'Do I wag my tail and bark? I think not! I want to see the flowers!'_

"Touchy whiny little, BLECH-CHOU!" Ichigo sneezed. He threw his back into that one.

"Guzumtite," the Ghostbusters recited. "AHHHHHHH!"

"AIEEEEE!"Janine screamed. Ichigo choked on his own words.

"SQUUEEEEEEK" screamed Slimer thinking it was a GAME, ". . . SQUEEE! SQUEEE! EEEEEK . . . EEK . . . eeek . . . squeak . . . Did I win?"

Everyone stared at Slimer. Ichigo scowled with a tch and glanced the other way. Everyone else freaked out. Ichigo on the other hand stepped outside to let the rain wash whatever slime and gunk caked onto his clothes. Bright orange hair plastered against around his skull. It would just be so easy, just walk away and leave it all behind him.

_'As if,'_ Ichigo thought to himself smugly, _'I'll never back down from a fight.'_

"Oh the EPA is going to _love _this," Venkman sighed, "How am I going to explain to the insurance company that Death Jr. blew up the lab?"

"Death Jr.?" Winston resounded with a cock of his brow, "He just swung a sword the size of my Mama's Laz-E-Boy. Aren't you a bit tall to be called Junior?" Winston asked Ichigo.

Ichigo didn't answer. Brown eyes scoped out the pouring rain. His body was in the room one floor up. His wallet; a useless slap of leather in the pockets of a teenage war veteran of the Winter War who held no cash, no pity, and no heart for comrades burning their own.

_'Soul Society comes for my undead backside. They'll be measured for a pine box,'_ Ichigo snorted to himself. He went to get his body and what little possesions hecarried,_ 'I don't need help. I'm just fine!' _

"Wait up a second." Winston called, "Please come back here."

Ichigo's soul phased into its vessal and stormed forward in one smooth motion, His position standing halfway in, halfway out of the threshold of no return Winston grabbed him by the arm. Ichigo's foot levitated mere inches from the pavement. Ears registered the soft tone of Winston's voice not the tone of a man out for blood. The sound of a man out to keep a kid from catching his death in the rain; Ichigo turned, halfway glancing out the corner of his eye. Winston's hand clutched solid air before he tripped. Ichigo turned, catching the dark skinned man.

Winston pulled Ichigo inside.

Ichigo stood his ground expecting a fight.

Winston held out his hand hoping for a handshake. This was his way of silently saying no hard feelings right?

Ichigo took one look at his hand and hotly snarled, "Who are you. Where the heck did you put your gun?"

"We destroyed half the building fighting and as far as I can tell you don't speak a lot of English." Winston calmly explained.

"Yeah, English is a second language I have studied." Ichigo piped up politely yet bluntly. A certain Quincy somewhere might now want to shoot him. "I've even had to tutor other kids in Shakespeare."

. . . One being a certain Rukia Kuchiki who had to be reminded 365 times a year that Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream was not a guide to 21st century dating much to the embarrassment of Renji who achieved having Squad 11 recite Hamlet's death scene during a sword fight and Byakuya burning the book of Romeo and Juliet . . . Ichigo will unkindly threaten us not to ask.

On the other hand Winston felt pretty confident he could talk Ichigo out of leaving. After introducing everyone. The kid was more levelheaded than the other spooks Ghostbusters have busted. He'd been through plenty of mess dealing every slimy howling banshee that Ghostbuster business can dish out. A Grim Reaper Samurai in gauchos and straps wasn't a big deal. He was actually entertaining. . .

"My name is Ichigo Kurosaki!" Ichigo announced jabbing a thumb in direction to himself, "High School Student, Ex-Substitute Soul Reaper, and Captain of the variety athletics department at Karkura High School."

. . . In a blunt, and endearing fashion . . . The Variety Athletics Department was basically Little Old Ichigo renting his athletic skills to the highest bidder. The Soccer Club loved him! His part time boss did not.

. . . Ichigo's constant reminder that being a ghost didn't pay the bills.

Peter Venkman's ears perked up at the words unemployed. The phrase of "Cheap Manual Labor" did a static-y U-turn between his ears. Technically Ichigo wasn't quote on quote "dead." He was at that right age where most kids, emphasis on most kids, were at that ripe young age where sweet words played vital role in suckering-er-encouraging our lovely young suckers to go out into the world and get hired or fired. According to the Ginger haired teen, Ichigo's Substitute Soul Reaper was a vigilante deal, no paycheck whatsoever.

"Oh Ichigo," Peter purred, if he had devil horns they'd be popping up right now, "I hear you are currently unemployed in the . . . Hollow is that what you call them hollows?" Upon Ichigo's hesitant nod he continued, "We here at Ghostbusters would like to hire you."

Ichigo unlike most teenagers already knew a smooth talker when he heard one. A certain Hatn'Clogs said the same line. Don Kanonji did Ghost hunting for fame and glory. Not this Kurosaki.

"Eh-eh WRONG!" Ichigo yowled, his arms making an X in front of him, "What kind of c*** are you spouting? No one hires someone without an ulterior motive."

Ichigo hesitated when his body fell. His soul reaper form phased out with no trigger whatsoever. The air temprature dropping immediatly. A sheen frost gracing each glassy surface. Egon had to wipe the sleet from his glasses with a rag.

"Yes but what about this? You're a natural Ghostbuster," Peter crooned, he lovingly corralled his prey with one arm around his shoulder . . . area. Ichigo wasn't trying to remain tangeant . It was true his powers were going haywire. "You have experience, charm like prince charming . . . if he were a rock but that's the past. Right now, you're not as in control of your powers as you used to be."

"I've been to hell and back and you're telling me I need help?" Ichigo scoffed.

A piece of the top floor crash landed to earth. Dust scattered. Plenty of people coughed.

"You're out of your mind!"

"Oh right so says Reaper Jr." Peter chirruped beautifully."We here at Ghostbusters started this business because no one believed us, thought we were quacks,"

"Hey man I was hired on not cheap Manuel labor." Winston corrected, hands high in surrender, "You remember the equal opportunity clause in the contract right?"

"We usually look for people with work experience and proper training," Peter recited, "Not idiots who blab their mouths and make spectacles of ourselves."

"Peter does enough of that for five people," Ray piped up.

Ichigo snickered, a smile playing mischieviously across his face. Peter smacked Ray lightly.

"I guess so," Ray blabbed and Peter glared, "Well sorry Petey but it's kind of true."

"I could use some help around the office." Janine exclaimed.

"And Slimer gets a playmate," Ray cheered.

"It might be helpful to have a powerful Poltergeist test the Ghostbusting equipment." Egon Spengler answered as an afterthought.

Ichigo pouted a little, mulling over the offer. He'd been hacked up, beaten, blown up, possessed, bruised, burned and cut his head enough times there was a scar there to prove it. Their offer meant wiggling, crawling, bending, flexing, and muscling his way through into every position imaginable. New York seemed interesting but he missed home and he wanted his friends back.

"I have friends and family to get back home to ," Ichigo decided upon shaking a Ghostbuster's outstretched hand, "Deal."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>That last paragraph sounded harsh. Then again this is Ichigo weighing the pros and cons, not being Mr. Romantic. Personally I found it funny when Ichigo and Rukia argued. I couldn't whether it was sibling rivalry or being an old married couple. Rukia had her own way of being encouraging and honest (bluntly honest). Ichigo the tough guy, hauls off and does something nice. Fights to the bitter end and beyond for a friend. It makes watching Bleach pretty cool.

**Edit as of Jan 4, 2013: **Meelo I did get your anonymous review in my e-mail. You are right. Ichigo is whining just as bad as when Kon took a test drive in his body the first time. He'd should be more suspicious and while I don't try to ship pairings (to be fair). A certain someone you asked for will kick Ichigo's rear into gear.


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